Boney ran as fast as he could, his heart pumping hard against his chest. When he reached the brick church on Church Street, he started climbing up the side of the building. His nimble fingers felt for any outcropping of brick that he could clasp. Slipping back a little, now and then, he held fast and did not fall to the ground. Finally, he reached the wood steeple, but it was necessary for him to climb still further to the roof of this spire. Boney kept the cross on the very tip of the ornamental structure in his vision as he climbed past the bells, then past the clock. He could see a cedar shingle burning. But for the life of him, he couldn't figure out how a fire had started there. If he didn't reach it soon, the blaze would spread to other shingles, and the historic church would be engulfed in flames.

Boney reached the top, and he pulled with all his strength to dislodge the burning shingle. His hands were burned as he at last pulled the slab from the pegs holding it in place. He threw the burning shingle into the air, in the direction of the Cooper River. Then, with one hand, he tore the shirt from his body and smothered the tongue of fire that was licking other shingles. When the fire was out and all was dark, Boney made his way down the building. At the bottom, the factor and a group of dockworkers stood, watching. They told Boney that he had saved the building from destruction.

When Boney's master arrived in Charleston the next morning, the factor told him what had happened. The master thought about it for a while, and then he summoned Boney to stop working and come to him. Boney couldn't believe he was hearing the words correctly when the master gave him his freedom. "If ever any deed deserved to bring the gift of freedom," the master said, "this one does. For I was married in that church."

Boney left the dock and went home and told his wife and children the good news. He never worked again, but he spent the rest of his days hanging around St. Philips Church, especially in the adjacent burial ground. Boney sat, hours on end, his back resting on a grave marker, his gaze fixed on the steeple.

Although Boney had desired emancipation, he was unable to adjust to his freedom. He wanted to be on the docks, working with the people whom he knew. This thing called freedom wasn't the best thing in the world as he had once believed. Boney lost weight until he had almost withered away, and when death came, he was laid to rest in the slave cemetery on his master's Waccamaw River plantation.

The cornerstone of the present St. Philips Church building was laid on Nov. 12, 1835. The steeple, designed by Edward B. White, was added about 1848-50. The bells were removed from the steeple in 1862 and given to the Confederacy to be used in making cannon. The church was damaged in that war.

One evening as a Charleston woman who held exceptional hereditary rank and privilege in Charleston rode on Church Street in her carriage, she noted something in the cemetery at St. Philips, something most unusual. She had her driver stop the carriage, and she got out and walked into the burial ground where so many famous people had been given their final resting place. As she meandered among the monuments and markers, she didn't notice anything amiss, and she began to think of the distinguished and prominent leaders buried there. They included some of the early provincial governors of the Province of South Carolina: Edward Rutledge, a signer of the Declaration of Independence: John C. Calhoun: and some Episcopal bishops. Just as she was about to leave, from a corner of her eye she noticed a movement among the markers. Walking a little hesitantly in that direction, she made out the form of a man who appeared to be a slave. He sat with his back resting against a marker. And with the most intense stare, he gazed at the steeple. His skin and hair were dark, but his eyes were the most remarkable color, or noncolor. They seemed almost white in their unwavering gaze. The matron returned to her home and told the details of the experience to her children.

There have been sightings of "a gray man" in the cemetery at St. Philips on several occasions. Does Boney hang out there, gazing at the steeple?